


The Adventurous Types

by Netromancer



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, First Meetings, Interesting NPCs Mod, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Smut, ah well, in flashback, sex in dwemer ruin, still can't end things, still can't write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 13:51:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12865866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Netromancer/pseuds/Netromancer
Summary: Rumarin (Interesting NPCs) and Silas decide to let loose among the dwemer constructs.





	The Adventurous Types

**Author's Note:**

> Anything in Italiacs means it's a flashback.

"We're really doing this? Here?" Rumarin asked.

He glanced around the small alcove, at the vines dangling from the ceiling, the discarded gears from the dwemer constructs they'd slain and the treasure chest they'd picked open. Well, Silas had picked open, but Rumarin was cheering from the sidelines. Silently. They'd recently laid out bedrolls and built a small campfire to stave off the chill of the old ruin, deciding it'd be best to bunker down here for the night instead of sleeping outside. His Imperial companion smirked up at him, miscoloured eyes, green and brown like the forests he claimed to love so much, catching the light from the torch and making the Altmer's heart skip a beat. The smug little bastard knew what effect he had on Rumarin. He'd known since the first day they met.

  
"Can you think of a better way of celebrating our successful adventure?" Silas said. His hands trailed up the Altmer's chest until one came to his face, a thumb tenderly stroking the thin strip of facial hair covering his chin. "But if you don't want to-"

  
"I never said that exactly," Rumarin interrupted, turning his face just slightly so his lips brushed against the thumb, "But your timing could use more work. And I wouldn't exactly call this place romantic-"

  
Silas laughed breathlessly as Rumarin dipped his head so their lips met, feeling how the shorter Imperial had to stand on his tip-toes to reach. It made the Altmer smile, his hands splaying down Silas' lower back until they reached his arse and squeezed. "But stumbling into dark ruins and killing monsters is practically how we met anyway. Something like an anniversary," Rumarin said against the shorter man's lips, feeling how they quirked up into a grin.

  
"Something like that, yeah," the Imperial pushed the hood back from the Altmer's face, holding his gaze, and for a second Rumarin couldn't remember where he was anymore.

_Suddenly he was out in a blizzard, the battering winds and vicious frostbite far preferable to the company of Windhelm. The snow practically reached his knees and soaked his boots through, and with chattering teeth and aching limbs he dragged himself into the closest shetler - An old Nordic tomb. One with inhabitants who were not all that dead yet. He'd barely gotten out of the snow before the coffins lids fell with thuds hard enough to shake the ground and skeletons crawled out, creaking like old chairs and rasping with no vocal chords or tongue to form words._

  
_Rumarin's hands were frozen solid but they still raised to allow the purple-blue energy to surge from his palms. He chanted the bound sword spell, edging away from the skeletons who drew nearer with their ancient weapons at the ready, only to feel the cold press of a wall against his back. Rumarin had cornered himself. His heart lurched and due to panic he lost the spell, the energy slipping from his grasp like water. He cursed, feeling dread pool low in his gut as the first skeleton struck with its greatsword. The High Elf ducked and the sword caught the wall, metal slashing brick resulting in an ugly shriek._

  
_Rumarin quickly crawled back onto his feet, only to see a flash of movement before blades clattered together. He turned, startled to see a shorter figure in leather armor fighting the skeletons with two sharp daggers. The figure was a whirlwind, slicing, dodging and stabbing in quick, short bursts that left the skeletons mere shambles on the ground. When all was done the figure turned, breathing heavily, and Rumarin saw that it was a man. An Imperial man with short, dark hair that looked as though he'd simply hacked away the bits he didn't want with a blunt knife. His face was mangled by three long, vicious scars that curled over his face, silvery pink and seemingly never stitched shut or treated. The man had barely gotten a word out before Rumarin was talking._

Silas had dragged them down onto the bedrolls, armour and clothing shirked off to reveal scarred and battle worn bodies, Rumarin's more lithe and slim while Silas was sturdier with broader shoulders. Silas slid his hand behind Rumarin to tug his hair loose from the band while the Altmer found himself kissing up the Imperial's arm, tasting the natural saltiness of his skin and feeling how the muscles flexed beneath his lips. He always loved Silas' arms, the power they held when they wielded two swords or fired an arrow from his bow. The Imperial's head fell back and a startled moan slipped past his lips as Rumarin sucked bruising kisses into his collarbone and neck, using just the right amount of teeth to get the Imperial's toes curling. Rumarin pushed him gently back until he was flat on their furs, then his hands trailed invisible patterns down the man's chest and stomach until they rested on the thin leather pants that remained. An obvious bulge was formed in the middle, and Rumarin couldn't resist pressing his hand against it, just to feel how the Imperial gasped and arched into the touch, neck and face flushing with colour.

_"Wow, that was a frightening experience. The Nords should really consider burning their dead. Although granted it would make opening urns a lot more harrowing."_

_"Are you alright?" The man asked, and Rumarin noted that he didn't sound like any of the other Imperials he'd come across. More Cyrodillic than Skyrim. "Those skeletons must have surprised you."_

_His eyes lingered over the Altmer's face and Rumarin huffed, feeling his cheeks warming from the attention._

  
_"Oh, I'm fine. Don't worry, this isn't blood on my face, it's makeup. No, I'm sorry, war paint. Doesn't help much in an acutal war, though. But you did great and that's why you get first shot at robbing these graves." He was rambling and he knew it, his mouth feeling as though he'd just swallowed a bucket of sawdust. His palms were feeling a bit sweaty so he rubbed them on the front of his trousers._

  
_"No thank you," the man replied, "I really don't have time to go looting through graves. I've to get to Windhelm as soon as possible."_

  
_"Oh, whatever for?" Rumarin didn't know why he was asking. He didn't really care, but he didn't want to see the stranger leave just yet. It was selfish and stupid but he just wanted to hear his voice for a little big longer._

  
_"To give a horn to Ulfric Stormcloak so he can stop being such a bastard for two seconds," the Imperial replied and Rumarin couldn't help the laugh that erupted from him then._   
_"You'll need more than a horn to do that I'm afraid," he said._

  
_The Imperial sighed. "I know. But it's some ancient Nord tradition and I stopped questioning the things asked of me ages ago." He smiled up at the Altmer. "What's your name?"_

 

"Rumarin!" the Imperial rasped, fisting the furs below him with whitened knuckles. The Altmer had moved him onto his hands and knees and was now kneeling before his lover, lips and teeth caressing the smooth skin of his arse before pulling the cheeks apart.

  
Silas groaned, head falling forward as the flat of Rumarin's tongue traced over his hole. Rumarin ran his hands down the shorter man's thighs and felt how they trembled under his touch in anticipation. Chuckling, he blew air onto the wet hole before diving back in, lips and tongue sucking and rubbing until the Imperial was writhing underneath him. Silas' hand reached back to grab a fistful of Rumarin's hair, tugging it the way he liked, and encouraging him deeper. He rolled his hips, stuttering out a breath when the Altmer stiffened his tongue and teased the opening of his rim, earning a full body shudder.

  
"Fuck me," he hissed, "Get the oil from my bag and fuck me."

  
Rumarin pulled away with a thin string of saliva slipping down his chin. "You're so demanding. You know many don't consider that an attractive trait in a spouse," he said, clicking his tongue.

  
Silas laughed, rolling onto his back and spreading his legs for his partner. "You love this."

  
"Oh, of that there can be no doubt."

  
Rumarin was quick to retrieve the oil from the pack, making sure to coat his fingers thoroughly with it before pressing a finger into his lover. The Imperial made a pleased hum, and Rumarin groaned low under his breath at the tight heat surrounding his digit. It'd been a while since Rumarin had last topped the Imperial. Their previous encounters had Rumarin being taken, but while Rumarin did enjoy lying back and letting someone else do all the work, he had to admit there was fun in this too. He pushed a second finger and curled the digits just so until they brushed against the bundle of nerves inside his lover. Silas gasped and twisted, swallowing thickly as Rumarin pressed it again, harder this time, while scissoring his fingers to stretch out the muscles. The Altmer then lowered his head to Silas' cock, slipping the head into his mouth with a barely held back moan, smirking as the vibrations shot right through the younger man. Silas' cock was about average length, but it had impressive girth and filled Rumarin's mouth perfectly. He let his tongue roll over the slit, tasting the precum there, before lowering his head and taking the Imperial in deeper. At the same time he thrusted his fingers faster, eager to drag more sounds out of his lover.

  
"Ru-Rumarin..." Silas gasped.

  
"Hmm?" the Altmer lazily hummed around the cock in his mouth, resulting in a sharp intake of breath from Silas.

  
"Rumarin please-"

  
Rumarin pulled off the Imperial with a wet pop, licking his lips as he tugged his fingers from his hole and replaced it with his cock, which he'd been rubbing with oil while fingering the man. Silas eagerly wrapped his legs around the taller man's narrow hips, his hands coming to grip his forearms.

  
With one swift movement of his hips the Altmer was inside, cursing and shuddering at the tight, wet heat surrounding him. Silas's fingers dug into his arms, eyes scrunched shut as the thrusting began. Rumarin knew the Imperial liked it rough, while he himself preferred it to be sweet and slow and with a lot more kissing. He snapped his hips into the smaller man, fingers gripping bruises into his sides with every powerful thrust. Silas gasped and cried and moaned with each movement, eagerly meeting Rumarin's hips with a roll of his own. He arched his back and hissed when the Altmer found his sweet spot, raking his fingers up his arms until he found his shoulders and clenched, leaving crescent moon shaped marks on the High Elf's golden skin. The wet slaps of skin meeting skin filled the room, followed by the crackling of the fire and the harsh grunts of Rumarin. He bit his lip and stiffled the groan that threatened to erupt.

  
"Fuck," the Imperial whimpered, "Fuck you're doing so good, you're fucking me so good. Nine divines, shit!"

  
Rumarin huffed out a laugh and leaned forward to press a kiss to Silas' sweaty forehead, haltering his thrusts. "You blasphemer."

  
Silas laughed, brushing the hair sticking to Rumarin's face. "Are you tired?"   
"Yeah."

  
"Roll over then, I'll get on top."

  
The Altmer carefully pulled out before falling onto his back, feeling the stone dig at him beneath the warmth of the furs. The Imperial climbed onto his lip, lining his cock up before sinking down onto him slowly. His face melted into pure bliss, eyes rolling back as he began a steady rhythm of fucking himself onto Rumarin's cock. The Altmer spread his legs to help thrust back up into the tight wet, hissing when Silas shuddered around him. The Imperial reached down to stroke his cock as he rode the Altmer, moans and whines slipping out and only getting louder as he grew closer to cumming. Rumarin pushed the man's hand away and stroked the cock himself, hard and fast and matched the pace with his hips, earning a startled cry and more swears as the Imperial came with a shout, clenching tight around the cock inside him.

  
Rumarin gripped his hips and pounded into him a few more times before he came inside, a long, low groan ripped from his throat as he snapped his hips into the Imperial.   
It took a few minutes for them to come down from their high. But gradually Silas pulled himself off of Rumarin, seed slipping down his thighs as he stood only to fall back onto his side next to the Altmer. They were both shivering and gasping, too worn out for words and too overstimulated for cuddles.

Eventually the High Elf rolled onto his side so he could whisper in his ear; "I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes."

  
Silas snorted and playfully swatted at Rumarin's arm, only to be dragged into a tight embrace with Rumarin at his back pressing kisses into his cooling down skin.

  
"I married you," Silas said with disbelief in his voice, "I willingly went up to a priest and said I wanted you as my husband."

  
"I know, I couldn't believe it either. And yet here we are."

 

_"The name's Rumarin. Professional adventurer, bladebinder and grave robber. You?"_

  
_"Silvanus, Silas to my friends. Legion dog, rogue and dragonborn."_

 

"And I had no idea how important you'd become to me," Rumarin said softly into the dark of the room as the fire's light dimmed and Silas slept soundly in his arms.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading this far. I'm going to be writing more of these two :)


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